Adroit Conjuror
by Batwynn
Summary: Harry doesn't have any good memories. He doesn't remember his parents, or anything before his torturous life with the Dursleys. Things finally change for him thanks to the handsome, rather snobbish, bit of a git, Draco Malfoy.
1. Memories

Harry liked to think he was happy, once. He would lay there, curled up on his cot in the cupboard under the stairs, and imagine happier times. Even with his short stature, he was still too big for the cobweb-ridden space. Not that Harry minded the spiders, they just made him jump when they crawled across his face at night. The cupboard was not in any of his 'good memories'.

Yes, he had to imagine happier times, because he had no happy memories. He had little things, like the rare time Dudley would leave him alone, or when Uncle Vernon bought him a hotdog once. Well, he bought Dudley three hotdogs and gave Harry the third when Dudley couldn't manage to eat it. Those were decent memories, times where he squeaked by fate for just a moment. But Harry simply had no _good_ memories. So he made them up.

He would imagine his mother and father taking him on picnics, to the movies, or even mundane things like cleaning up after dinner together. The last one was the easiest to visualize, since he had never been on a picnic or been to the theatre before. He had cleaned up after dinner, every day since he could reach the taps. In his 'memory', though, he would dry the dishes while his mother washed them. Then his father would help put them away, but only the things that needed to go on the upper shelves. Harry would enjoy it, because they were doing it together. It was fun, and it didn't hurt and tire him out like washing them in real life did.

Harry was turning eleven this year. His birthday was just around the corner, and that meant absolutely _nothing_. There would be no change to his schedule, no break from his chores, and definitely no presents. Growing up, he learned very quickly that he was different from Dudley. Uncle Vernon was there to remind him always of how lucky he was that they took him in. Aunt Petunia would be the one to remind him that he should appreciate that they fed and sheltered him. Dudley reminded him that Harry was a freak, an orphan, and a punching bag. It was pretty much all the same lesson, just with different methods.

Luckily, Harry was fast, and smart. He could read the Dersley's moods much easier as he grew older. He tread carefully when Petunia was in a right mood in the kitchen, tip toeing around as he helped clean up. He found new ways to avoid Dudley, climbing into tress or hiding in the neighbor's bushes until Dudley got bored and went inside again. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to avoid Uncle Vernon's fists quite as easily.

He would always remember the first time Uncle Vernon hit him. It had come as such a surprise, Harry had it burned into his memory. He was seven at the time, and he'd been doing the laundry. One of the first few times he had tried to do it, in fact. So, of course, he made a mistake. It wasn't really his fault, considering no one told him not to put reds and purples in with the whites.

Harry noticed as he was pulling out Vernon's work shirts, that everything that wasn't red, was a nice cheerful pink. So, unsure of what to do, he brought the shirt to Uncle Vernon.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, BOY?!"

Harry flinched back automatically, the shirt torn from his grasp to be closely inspected by a red faced Vernon.

"I... I did everything the same as last time," Harry tried to explain in a quiet voice.

"Well you did it wrong!" Vernon snapped. "Show me the rest, you bloody idiot!"

Harry rushed down the hall to the laundry machine and stood there nervously as the man started digging through the clothes. As each pink work shirt was dragged out and added to the pile, Uncle Vernon's face grew more and more red.

After a while, he went perfectly still. Harry saw this as a chance to apologize, and shuffled closer to do so. Just as the words were forming in his mouth, his uncle's arm lashed out at him, sending him flying into the window of the back door. The glass cracked, and Harry slid to the floor in a daze. Blood came out in a flood from his nose, and it scared him. He had never seen so much blood before, except when he caught a glimpse of a movie on the television.

He let out a startled whimper and looked up at his uncle. The man was glaring at a spot over his head, his fists clenching and unclenching as if itching to hit Harry again. Instead, he screamed at Harry for breaking things in his house, and sent him to his cupboard with no supper.

Even now, four years later, Vernon would find any excuse to hurt him. Harry has lost count of the times he spent in his cupboard, steaming the blood from a split lip or a busted nose with the sleeve of his shirt. His Uncle let up slightly when school started, but it wasn't as though he was ever asked to explain why Harry came in with blood stained clothes and a bruise here and there. Teachers seemed to pass it off as 'boys being boys'. Harry lost his respect for school and teachers very quickly after the incident with him jumping on the roof.

Of course no one believed that he flew up there. Nor did anyone care why he was up there in the first place. Running away from Dudley and his cronies was apparently as far fetched as flying. It was one of the few things Harry actually learned in school. Trust no one, hide behind a lie or half truth, and don't get caught.

* * *

Harry sighed when Aunt Petunia rapped her knuckles on the cupboard door and demanded he get up to fix breakfast. Today was his eleventh birthday, and a Tuesday. That meant beans on toast, sunny-side up eggs, and fried tomatoes. For everyone else, anyway. Harry would usually get a slice of toast, eaten quickly as he prepared food for the others. He did manage to sneak a scrap here and there, but he had to be careful under the hawk-like eyes of Aunt Petunia. He got in trouble before when he snagged a piece of bacon once. Apparently, she had counted the slices beforehand.

Yawning and stretching as far as he could manage in the small space, Harry slipped out of his baggy pajamas into baggier clothes and shuffled his way to the bathroom to wash up. He started breakfast, easily switching between one pan and the other, setting the table, pouring coffee for Vernon, tea for Petunia, and juice for Dudley. Dudley had tried to demand pop a few times before Petunia put a stop to it, claiming it would rot his teeth. That didn't stop her from buying him massive bags of candy every time they went out.

"Are you finished yet?" Petunia hissed over his shoulder, eyeing the tomatoes as they sizzled in the pan.

"Just these and then I'm done."

"Good, eat your breakfast quickly and get outside. There's weeding to be done, and the car needs a good wash."

Harry nodded and turned off the heat, holding back a grumble at his future prospects. Weeding always hurt his knees. His nights were long and painful after a day in the garden. At least cleaning the car would a mild break.

He snagged one slice of tomato and ate it so quickly he burnt his tongue. The family filed into the kitchen, all equally overweight with the exception of Aunt Petunia. Harry secretory wondered if Uncle Vernon and Dudley were, in fact, aliens from another planet who needed twice the amount of food to survive. That would explain so much.

"If you're finished skulking around the kitchen, get outside with you!"

Harry ducked his head and shuffled out the kitchen door. At least the weather had decided to bless his birthday with sun instead of rain. Sometimes fate could be kind.

Several hours later and a nice sunburn on the back of his neck, Harry entered the back hall and shook his head. He felt dizzy and a little nauseous, and assumed it was from hunger. Just as he was headed down the hall, Petunia spotted his muddy shoes and had a right fit about it. So, instead of food or rest, Harry was back on his sore knees scrubbing the floor.

"Happy bloody birthday to me," Harry muttered to himself, sloshing soapy water across the floor.

There had been a lot of drama this past week with birds. It had started out as rare and fascinating thing, and turned into a full blown comedy act. The Dursleys had been thoroughly disturbed, and whatever disturbed the Dursleys, made Harry very happy. Sadly, the owl madness had trickled to a stop just yesterday, drawing a shout of triumph from Uncle Vernon. Harry nearly congratulated him for doing absolutely nothing.

There was a knock on the front door. It was a quick succession of taps that sounded impatient and determined. Harry sat back on his heels and peered down the hallway to see if his aunt was going to answer it. There was another batch of knocking and no answer. So Harry stood, his knees protesting vocally, and walked towards the door. On his way, he spotted Aunt Petunia watching television in the living room, volume too high to hear anything else.

Rolling his eyes, Harry opened the door.

"I'm sorry, but we don't want any," he said before the door had finished opening.

"I'm afraid I am not giving anything away," a cold voice snapped.

Another voice joined in impatiently, "Now Severus, there's no reason to treat the boy like that."

Harry gaped at the man and woman standing on the front step. Both were dressed in nearly all black, wearing a discombobulation of clothing items that didn't quite go together. Harry wondered vaguely where the woman had even managed to find such a hat in England, let alone this era.

"Can I help you?" He asked, glancing between the two.

"Ah," the woman spoke, "you must be young Harry Potter, then?"

The dark haired man sneered. "Oh he is _defiantly_ Potter's son. Look at his hair."

"Severus!"

"You knew my father?" Harry asked, torn between talking to them, and shutting the door in their faces.

"Know him? I wish I hadn't ever—"

"That will be quite enough, professor Snape," the woman interrupted him smoothly, and turned back to address Harry, "we have tried to contact you this past week. It seems none of our correspondence has reached you."

Harry raised and eyebrow and tried to think back at the past week. He had been forbidden to pick up the mail the entire time the owl fiasco was happening. Maybe there had been something for him in mess.

"I'm not allowed to get mail," he replied at last, and frowned. "Were you the ones sending the owls?"

"Why, yes. That was us. Do you know why we were attempting to contact you?"

"Umm... No?"

The woman's stiff smile slipped away, and she shared a worried look with the man beside her.

"We would like you to come with us, so we may explain it," she began wearily, "There isn't much time before the semester begins for you to get all of your school supplies."

"You're from a school? Oh, that's right, you called him a professor." Harry blinked at the man who continued to scowl at him as though Harry was the bug beneath his boot.

"That is correct," the woman agreed, another weak smile slipping Into place. "We both teach at Hogwarts. My name is Professor Mcgonagall and I teach transfiguration."

"Hog...warts?" Harry asked incredulously, "is that _really_ a school? Are you pulling my leg?"

Snape stared at him evenly and took out a stick. Harry eyed the stick nervously, his arms instinctively twitching to protect himself from being hit. When the man lifted the stick, he gave into the urges and ducked down with his arms over his head.

There was a strangled gasp from one of the two above him and then a long silence. He decide it was safe enough to peek out at them, and he did. The man was holding the stick loosely at his side and was looking down at Harry with a strangely revolted expression. Professor Mcgonagall had gone pale, one hand covering her mouth in surprise. They stayed like that even as Harry unfurled him self and stood up straight again, swaying slightly as the dizziness from before returned.

"What the bloody hell was that?!" Snape hissed, sounding less threatening now then he did the entire conversation thus far. He sounded pained and surprised.

Harry shuffled his feet and looked anywhere but at him. "I thought... well, you had a stick... I mean, it's not a very big stick o'course but it still might had hurt if you..." He trailed off helplessly, his cheeks reddening.

"You thought I was going to hit you with my wand?"

The woman next to him shifted uncomfortably and watched Harry with concerned eyes.

"That's what it seem— hang on, wand?" Harry's head jerked up, his eyes widening. "That's a _wand_?"

"Of course it is, we aren't all stick carrying muggles, as seems to be the latest fashion," the man said, his sneer returning. There was still a hint of something in his eyes that lead Harry to believe that the nastiness was a front.

"I don't know what a muggle is, but carrying a wand is just as weird as carrying a stick."

"Oh Merlin," Snape breathed, looking at Mcgonagall next to him with an exasperated face. "He doesn't know."

"Thank you, I believe I noticed," the woman replied curtly. "Perhaps you should show him what you were going to a moment ago?"

Harry glanced back at the hall once, and heard the television still blaring. They were safe, for now. He turned back around and watched the dark-haired man warily.

Snape flicked his wand and muttered something under his breath. A duck appeared in front of them and floated around Harry in little circles before disappearing with pop. Harry gaped at the spot where it vanished.

"That, what? You... a duck?!"

He looked up to see the man smiling ever so faintly. "Yes, Potter. We are wizards who can conjure things such a ducks."

Mcgonagall sniffed from beside him and muttered, "why a _duck_ of all things?"

Snape shot her a look and opened his mouth to say something before he was interrupted.

* * *

"_HARRY_!" Came a screeching voice from the hallway.

Harry flinched, his eyes going wide with fear. Snape stared at him, recognizing the expression before the boy's Aunt Petunia yanked the door open wider and pushed the boy inside.

"We don't want whatever you're selling and we are very happy with what be believe in!" Petunia rattled off the usual speech.

"We are here to bring Mr. Potter to school, as we tried to say in our letters," Mcgonagall said, her voice becoming sharp. "We had hoped one of them had reached him so he would be prepared."

Aunt Petunia looked her over once before she froze, her eyes growing wide. "N-no... not you lot," she breathed, "get out of here, we don't want _your_ kind around the house!"

Snape gave her a very unimpressed look before his eyes fell on Harry, pressed against the hallway wall looking terrified. The boy glanced at him nervously, his eyes slightly glazed over. Enough was enough.

"Mrs. Dursley, we will be taking him to the school, where he will learn to be one of 'our kind'," Snape said with a nasty smirk, "he will return here for the summer and winter holidays until he has completed his education."

Snape turned to the boy and addressed him, "Go pack your things now."

Mcgonagall gave him a look that promised words later, and turned to speak to Harry as well. "Do you need any assistance in packing?"

Harry shook his head and glanced back at his aunt who was making wordless sputtering noises in protest. He seemed to decide it was safe, and darted down the hallway to the side of the staircase. Snape peered around the skinny woman, wondering where the boy was going. When he disappeared under the stairs, something clicked.

"Is that where he... sleeps?" He asked, painfully aware of the way his voice shook a little.

The woman sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "Of course. There is plenty of room under there."

Mcgonagall let out a small choking sound and stared down the hallway, waiting for the boy to reappear.

"_Move_," Snape growled at Petunia.

"You are not coming into my house!" The woman nearly shrieked.

"Move or I shall move you myself."

The woman shuddered, her eyes growing narrow. She shifted to one side and squawked when Snape brushed past her roughly. He reached the cupboard in less than a moment and peeked into the small room.

Harry had jumped at the sound from behind him and whipped himself around.

"I'm sorry!" Were the first words out if his mouth before arms went up, yet again, to protect himself.

The sight make Snape sick to his stomach. "There is no need to apologize to me, Potter."

Harry let his arms drop and nodded nervously, turning back to his packing in small, jerky movements. Snape's eyes moved around the room, deliberately slow, taking in everything he saw and storing it away for later. It was far too small, much to dirty, and not fit for an animal to live in. He swallowed the nausea and stopped back, taking a deep breath. He was going to have to speak to Dumbledore about this.

"Umm," Harry mumbled, "I'm all set, sir."

"You have everything?"

Harry smiled sheepishly and held up a backpack. "Not much to pack, I'm 'fraid."

"I see," Snape agreed and stepped back to let the boy out of the cupboard. He watched the boy give the room a final look over before a small look of triumph flashed over his face. Snape smiled despite himself, please to see something hopeful in the boy. He may have hated Harry's father, but he was finding it difficult to take it out on him. Perhaps it was the fact that the boy had his mother's eyes. Or that his situation reminded Snape all too much of his own past. He shuddered a little and shook away the memories itching to come to life once again.

"Come along, you have a lot to learn," he said at last, ushering the boy past a still sputtering Aunt Petunia.

* * *

Everything went by in a mad blur of sights and sounds. Harry found he disliked aperating almost as much as weeding, if not more. He had the unfortunate combination of sun sickness and his first try at magical traveling that caused him to vomit when they reappeared elsewhere. He had been embarrassed for the rest of the day, regardless of their assurances that it was common.

He wasn't completely focused on the event, seeing as he spent the next few hours being introduced to wizarding world. They had brought him to a street Harry had never seen before, leading the way through what seemed to be an ordinary wall. It took a lot of effort to bring himself to walk through it. But once he did, he found that the wall was the least amazing thing he would lay eyes on that day.

The bank was fascinating to Harry. He had never been in a normal bank before, and this one certainly would have taken the cake in comparison. Harry didn't enjoy the cart ride as much as he would have without the sun sickness. He did manage to not vomit, this time. They showed him to a volt full of strange coins and told him it was all his. After several minutes of arguing that it was impossible, his parents never left him anything, and that he didn't even know what it all was, he finally took the sack of coins Snape shoved in his hands. On the way up, Harry had hoped to see a dragon, but was pleased all the same to spot a giant entering a volt on his own. He nearly asked professor Snape if he was a customer or if he guarded the volts, but he noticed the professor's tight lipped expression and decided against it.

After that, it was shopping. Something he had never done in the real world, never mind shopping for wizard items. Snape had left them for a bit to go 'cure himself of Gringotts'. So Mcgonagalll lead him around the shops, telling him what he would need. She seemed pleased with everything until they reached the pet shop.

"Are you _sure_ you don't want a cat?" She asked, her voice clearly disappointed.

"I'm sure," Harry said with an apologetic smile. "If I'm going to write to anyone, I'll need an Owl."

She nodded in agreement and looked, almost forlornly, at the cats he was leaving behind. Snape joined them again in time for him to get his wand. It had been rather awkward when the man announced how alike Harry's wand was to some lord. He shrugged it off, but the two professors exchanged heavy looks and were quite for a long while afterward.

"Now, Mr. Potter," Mcgonagall said, her voice slipping into teacher mode again. "We will bring you to the platform slightly early, seeing as we must return to the school before the students reach it."

Harry nodded and let them lead the way to the muggle train station. He had to admit he was a little less than impressed that they would be taking an average train to a wizarding school, but thought better than to comment on it. Clearly, they knew best.

He should have known, after the wall incident, that it was going to be so much more. After his grab entrance through platform's secret gate, Harry was met with a beautiful sight. He was never one for trains, but if he were, the Hogwarts Express would be at the top of his list. Not that he had a lot of time to enjoy it, as birding calls were already starting up from the head of the train. Mcgonagall floated his trunk onto the train and settled it on a wrack above his head. Snape gave him a look that could have been reassuring, or maybe just another sneer. Harry waved at them both as the train began to leave. He blinked, and then they were gone.

* * *

Harry's compartment didn't stay empty for long. Although, for some reason no one bothered to stay very long. Most of the students were already out searching for people they knew, finding compartments of their own. Harry didn't mind all that much, it saved him the awkward introductions. He had already gotten a few strange looks and whispers when he boarded. There was a red head family that had been rather obvious about it, and Harry had been more careful to avoid them since. So he settled into he compartment, ignoring the last of the students peering in on the search for friends. After a while, people seemed to have settled into their compartments permanently as the train drove on.

Harry had nearly dozed off when the compartment door slid upon with a snap and a drawling voice filled the room.

"So _this_ is where he's got to."

Harry looked up in surprise, unsure as to who the speaking was referring to. The boy was about the same hight as him, with pale skin and shockingly blond hair. Harry had the strangest urge to run his hand through it to be sure it was real.

"I'm sorry?" Harry said, looking around the compartment for the other person the boy must be looking for.

"You _are_ Harry Potter, are you not?" Drawled the blond yet again.

"I am, why?"

The blond boy's expression went from bored to excitement in seconds.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Draco Malfoy," he said, holding a hand out to him.

Harry blinked in confusion, and shook the hand offered to him. "Harry Potter, as you seem to know."

Malfoy scoffed and sat down across from him, giving him a good look over. "Who doesn't know of you? You do know you're famous, don't you?"

Harry blushed and ducked his head. The two professors had spoken to him about his miraculous survival of a killing curse and what it had meant to the wizarding community. Snape had seemed rather irked about the whole thing until Harry expressed his own distaste for the fame. He was a baby, it wasn't as though he fought bravely. He probably burped up milk and went on doing whatever babies do. The professor had smiled for nearly a minute at that.

"I 'spose I do." Harry looked up and added, "But it's all rubbish anyway."

"Rubbish?" Malfoy asked incredulously, "what, like a pack of lies?"

Harry shook his head and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No, it's not a lie. It's just that... I mean..." He frowned and met the blond's gray eyes. "I didn't actually do anything. I don't see why people care."

Malfoy shrugged and leaned back into his seat. The other two boys that had been behind him had remained lurking in the hall until that point. They took Malfoy's lounging as a sign to join them, one sitting beside the blond and the other next to Harry. He wasn't all that pleased to have the hulking mass near him, he remind him of Dudley.

Malfoy seemed perfectly content to conduct the conversation himself with Harry joining in every so often to ask questions. At some point, a girl stopped by the compartment and asked if any of them had seen a toad. Malfoy had sent her off with a snarky comment, and Harry gave her an apologetic look.

"What was that about?" He asked after she left.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "How should _I_ know what the mudblood wants."

Harry stared at him in confusion, unsure what the term meant. "Mudblood?"

"Oh, you know, a 'wizard' born from muggles," Malfoy said with a dramatic sigh. "I'm surprised they even let them in to Hogwarts. It's bad enough they let half bloods in."

Harry frowned a bit, realizing that if mudblood was from muggles, then half blood must have meant one parent was a muggle while the other was a wizard.

"I'm a half blood," Harry said in a quiet voice, suddenly afraid of disappointing the boy.

The blond blinked and looked oddly awkward for a moment. "Well, you're allowed of course. You are clearly a powerful wizard."

Harry let out a sigh and leaned back into his seat at last. "I don't think so. I only learned about being a wizard today."

"That's okay!" Malfoy piped up, "you're doing just fine. Trust me, when you're friends with me, you won't fall behind."

Harry's mouth fell open for a moment before he closed it and swallowed nervously. "Friends?"

A small flash if something crossed Mafloy's expression before the blank look of boredom returned.  
"Of course we are, unless you don't want to be?"

"No, no I do!" Harry amended quickly, sitting up again to meet his eyes with sincerity. "I just... I've never had a friend before."

It was Malfoy's turn for his jaw to drop. "_Never_?! I'm your first friend?"

Harry nodded, ducking his head down in shame. There was an awkward silence before Harry peaked from behind his hair and saw that Malfoy's pale complexion had gone a nice pink. Deciding against commenting on it, Harry gave the boy a moment to gather himself.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well, it's an honor to be your first friend. I suppose Crabbe and Goyle can be your second and third friends if you want them."

Harry nodded to the other two boy who had largely been ignoring him for most of the ride. They nodded back and grunted in agreement.

"This calls for a celebration!" The blond shouted, jumping up and running into the hall. Harry blinked at the open door for several minutes before he heard a voice call out for Crabbe. The boy left and returned a minute later, hands full of colored packets and a four bottles of some sort of drink. Crabbe offered one from the crook is his arm to Harry, who took it and thanked him. Malfoy returned a moment later, also burdened with food and candy.

"Everyone dig in, this is our calibration feast," he said, his eyes sparkling. He was taking it much more seriously than Harry would have expected.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly and took the first package he blond offered him. It turned out to be a frog made of chocolate that tried to get away from him as soon as he opened it. After accidentally crushing it on the seat in a lame attempt to catch it, Harry opened another more carefully and but into it.

After that, he tried one of everything. He enjoyed the drink quite a bit, finding out by way of Malfoy that it was pumpkin juice. The celebration really began to kick off when they opened a bag of jelly beans and offered Harry first choice.

He popped it into his mouth and promptly spit it out. "Blaugh! What the hell was that?!"

Malfoy rolled with laugher, and nearly ended up on the floor.

"Burtie Bott's a right bastard," Malfoy managed between giggles. "What flavor was it?"

Harry ran his tongue over his lips and frowned thoughtfully. "It sort of tasted like black pepper."

Crabbe made a noise of discontent and said, "I 'aven't got one of those in a long time."

Malfoy grinned and ate one himself. He smiled and swallowed it happily.  
"Caramel," he said with a smug look.

"That's not fair, give me another one," Harry said, leaning over and digging a hand into the bag.

It soon became a contest to find and eat the best tasting beans before anyone else could. Most of them turned out to be rather gross, but it was fun all the same.

It had been a long day, and Harry was sure it was going to be even more exhausting when they reached the school. But right then and there, Harry was happy. He smiled widely, and for the first time in his life, he had a good memory to look back on.


	2. Into the Unknown

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the characters and settings.

* * *

Harry lost sight of Draco and the others in the wave of students leaving the train. He thought he saw a flash of blond here and their, but he lost it again any time he tried to get closer. Starting to panic slightly, he gripped the wand in his pocket for comfort and shuffled sideways to find a gap in the crowd. A booming voice called out for the first years somewhere to his left and Harry ended up getting pushed along with the crowd once more. Harry ran nearly head first into a large statue thanks to one particularly vicious elbow in his ribs. The statue, was in fact, a large man and happened the be the one calling the first years away from the rest of the students.

"Alright there?" the man inquired with a smile, pressing a massive hand on Harry's shoulder. He was far taller than your average man, and heavily bearded. He could be described as nothing other than a giant.

"I'm... I'm fine," Harry managed to squeak.

"Yer a first year, ain't cha?"

Harry nodded and felt his hands begin to shake. It was all too much. He was alone in the crowd, having already lost his first friends, and was now being stared down by a giant. To top it all off, everyone else seemed to know what to do. How was it that Harry was the only one who knew nothing about Hogwarts, or wizards in general?

"Don' fret, lad," the man said in a quieter voice. "Yer gonna' love it 'ere! Name's Hagrid, by the way. What's yers?"

The shift in his tone helped sooth Harry's nerves enough to brave looking up at the giant again. "Harry, sir. Harry Potter."

"'Arry!" Hagrid cheered, "so yer got 'ere in one piece, didn't ya? Good fer you, lad!"

Harry couldn't hold back a smile. He wasn't used to getting any sort of praise, much less for something as simple as arriving. "Thank you, sir." He glanced around and added, "I don't know where to go, actually."

"S'alright, just follow me!" Hagrid beamed through his massive beard and turned to lead the way.  
Harry rushed after him, afraid of losing the last friendly face in the crowd. He wasn't the only one following the giant, the crowd of eager students were pressing him on all sides as Hagrid lead the way from the station.

The group didn't thin out until they reached the shore of a lake, and began to pile into different boats. Harry cast one more desperate look around for his friends before giving up and settling into a boat filled with strangers. One of the boys was looking a little sick and seemed to be clutching some sort of toad to his chest.

"Did you get that from the lake?" A dark haired girl asked. The girl next to her, who Harry noticed was her twin, started to giggle obnoxiously.

"H-He's my pet," the boy stammered out before shutting his mouth abruptly.

The girls sneered and made disgusted faces. "You were supposed to bring an owl or a cat, not a part of the swamp."

"Mcgonagall said you could bring any pet bought in the store," Harry intervened. He disliked bullying, even when it wasn't him who was being bullied. "Did you buy him?" Harry addressed the boy, hoping he wasn't wrong.

"My... my Gran did," the boy replied, looking a little less sick. "His name's Trevor."

Harry smiled at the toad. "Nice to meet you, Trevor." Glancing back up at the boy's startled face, he asked, "what's your name, then?"

"N-Neville?"

"Nice to meet you, Neville. I'm Harry."

Neville nodded and fell back into silence, keeping his flushed face turned away from the girls. Harry shrugged and let it go, giving the twins a small glare before noticing that they were no longer on open water. Somehow, during their short conversation, they had arrived under the castle. Harry kicked himself for not taking the chance to see the castle before they arrived. He had been too worried about messing up and getting lost to admire the view.

With only one student dripping wet from the lake, the group made their way up a series of corridors until they were just outside a massive set of doors. Harry could hear the murmur of hundreds of voices coming from just beyond them. As the students around him began to get antsy, Mcgonagall opened the doors swiftly to call them in.

They formed a disjointed queue and followed her through into a massive room. It was, by far, the most amazing thing Harry had ever seen. There were floating candles, the ceiling seemed to be gone, and he was sure he spotted what had to have been a ghost. Harry gaped at it all until he started tripping over the feet of the person in front of him.

"Oy, watch it!"

Harry fell back and ended up bumping into the person behind him. "Sorry! I'm sorry."

The person behind him happened to be Neville. "It's alright," he replied, ducking his head down to avoid eye contact.

The red-head Harry had stepped on turned around and spotted him. As soon as their eyes met, Harry watched the boy's attention slide from his glasses up to the scar and back again.

"You're _Harry Potter_!" The red-head squeaked. "I got trampled by Harry Potter."

"I'm sorry about that," Harry quickly tried to amend. He couldn't tell if the boy was simply shocked at his existence or appalled that the supposed 'hero of the wizarding world' had just stepped on him.

"This is brilliant! I'm Ron, by the way," the boy offered his hand. "Ron Weasley."

Harry smiled at his excitement and shook the hand offered to him. He was still reeling at how fast he was making friends. It was a grave contrast to his lonely life back home.

"Well, you know who I am already. But nice to meet you, I'm Harry."

Ron giggled for a moment, lost in his own excitement. It sounded loud in the silence that had fallen when Professor Mcgonagall entered the center of the floor carrying a stool and a hat.

"Oh," Ron batted Harry's chest with a hand. "Here we go, mate. Time to figure out our houses." He grinned at Harry and added with a wink, "not that we don't know what one we're gonna be in."

Harry looked at the hat doubtfully and tried to remember what Mcgonagall had said about the houses. "Wait," he said with a small frown, "what do you mean we know? I don't know."

Ron gave him a look. "It's Gryffindor, obviously. Here, look," he said as he pulled Harry closer and pointed over at a table. Harry squinted and spotted two more red-heads sitting at the table. As if sensing his eyes, the twins looked over at them and began to wave obnoxiously.

"Those are my brothers, Fred and George. They said they saw you on the train, but I didn't believe them."

Harry smiled ruefully at the memory of the red-headed brothers gawking at him. It had been extremely uncomfortable at the time, and the attention they were drawing to him now was no better. At least Ron had introduced himself, which was more than he could say about most of the other gawking students.

"I don't understand," came Neville's voice from behind them, "how does this prove the house you're going to be in?"

Ron turned to them with a proud smile. "All my brothers are Gryffindors. I'm guaranteed to get in."

Neville nodded but Harry was still confused. "What does that have to do with me, then?"

"You're a hero!" Ron cheered. "Good guys are _meant_ for Gryffindor."

Harry swallowed a swarm of insecure questions and nodded along with Neville. He still didn't get it, but he wasn't about to argue with his newly made friends. In the midst of their talking, the sorting had already begun. He had just noticed how much closer they were to the front when he heard a familiar name get called.

"Draco Malfoy!"

Harry pulled out from the queue to peek around the others. He bit back a laugh as he watched Draco stride forward and sit on the stool as if it were a throne. Ron peeked over his shoulder and made a disgusted noise.

The hat had barely touched the blond's head before it bellowed, "SLYTHERIN!"

"Well _there's_ a surprise," Ron commented nastily.

"What? Why?"

Ron sneered at the blond's back as Draco sat down next to the already sorted Crabbe and Goyle. "Well, he's a pure blood and his father's a death eater."

"A... what?"

Ron looked at him as if he had never seen him before. "Blimey, you really _don't_ know anything."

Harry bristled at his words and shrunk back a little. He should have expected it, after years of Dudley and his friends making nice one second and putting him down the next. Even if it was true, Ron's word stung him. So what if he didn't know anything except what the two professors and Draco had told him. He didn't grow up around wizards. It wasn't fair that every kept expecting him to know everything.

"Death eaters work for you-know-who," Ron continued, not noticing Harry's discomfort.

You-know-who was a topic the professors had brought up. They had to, considering Harry's past with the wizard. The wand shop owner had also talked about him, although Harry tried to forget what he had said. For once, he knew something, and it wasn't a very good something.

"Draco's father works for Vold—"

Ron hissed and slapped a hand over Harry's mouth. "Sssh! Don't say his name."

Harry mumbled and pulled the hand away.

Ron looked him over thoughtfully, then his eyes sought out the blond again. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Or, I should say snake." Ron grimaced. "Malfoy is going to be a death eater too, no doubt."

Harry paled and followed Ron's eyes to stare at the back of Draco's head. Was it true? Would Draco some day turn against Harry and join the man who killed his parents? Who tried to kill _him_.

No.

The memory of a bright pink face looking back at him in a mix of awe and happiness shook all the dark thoughts from his mind.

Draco was his friend, his first friend. He had been nothing but kind to him from the start. He didn't even make fun of the fact that Harry was completely ignorant about anything to do with the wizarding world. Harry knew Draco wouldn't betray him like that. He hoped, anyway.

"No," Harry said at last, his voice more confident than he felt. "Draco wouldn't do that."

Ron's eyebrows shot up, "You really think he wouldn't? Wait... you keep saying 'Draco'. No one calls him that except his cronies."

Harry lifted his chin and stared back at him confidently. "We are friends."

Ron spent the next few moments opening and closing his mouth, struggling and failing to find words. At last, he managed to stutter out, "y-ou... but you can't!"

"I can be friends with who I want," Harry snapped back. His patience was starting to run thin. Neville shook his head but didn't say a word. Both boys looked uncomfortable and continued to shoot angry looks over at the Slytherin table as if it was the entire house's fault for Harry's choice in friends.

Ron tried to bring it up again, but Harry ignored him and turned his focus back to the sorting. The students had really thinned out over time, leaving Harry and a few others to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room.

At last, Harry was called.

He couldn't manage the confident stride that Draco had used, so he opted to shuffle up to the stool and sit down nervously. Mcgonagall flashed him a small, reassuring smile and placed the hat on his head. It slipped down over his eyes, and for a panicked moment, Harry thought he was back in his cupboard again.

"_Hmm, you're a hard stick_," a voice commented near his ear.

Harry jumped and nearly fell off the stool. A smattering of laughter filled the hall, reminding Harry that he had just made a fool of himself in front of the entire school. Great.

"_Nervous?_" The voice asked.

"More like embarrassed," Harry muttered.

"_Hmmm. Sounds a bit Hufflepuff._"

Harry frowned and tried to remember what he knew about the houses. Not enough, apparently. He was left in silence for a while and his mind drifted back to his conversation with Ron. The good guys always ended up in Gryffindor? But Draco was good, and Crabbe and Goyle had been almost nicer than Ron. Well, quieter, maybe.

"_Hmm, you're rather loyal_," the voice commented. "_A bit too brave for a Hufflepuff. Perhaps Gryffindor?_"

_Good guys_, Harry thought. Griffendor was where he was expected to go, wasn't it? Where he would be treated like some sort of prize or mascot. Ron was just as ready to brush him off as any other bloke until he spotted the scar. The twins didn't even say hi, but proceeded to whisper about him right there in front of him. Was that the future Harry had to look forward to?

"No," Harry hissed. "I would rather not have my life picked out for me anymore."

The hat shifted on his head and muttered, "_No? Have it your way then. Your loyalties are very..._"

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat shouted out loud.

The muttering that had started during the long debate between Harry and the Sorting Hat ceased immediately. Harry plucked the hat from his head and was met with a sea of startled faces. His eyes wandered a moment until they found Draco. Of everyone in the room, he was the only one who looked pleased at the announcement. That was all Harry needed to regain some of his confidence.

He flashed a smile at the room and jumped off the stool to head to the table. Draco sat up straighter and began to clap. The rest of the hall joined it, slowly as if unsure why they were clapping.

"Harry!" Draco called out, waving him over to sit in the space he had made for him.

"Hi," Harry replied with a grin, throwing himself down next to the blond.

Draco all but beamed at him, and the two boys beside him seemed oddly pleased at his placement as well. The rest of the table, however, seemed a little discouraged. Harry ignored it. Just as he ignored the staring, confused eyes, and the whispers between students and teachers. Casting a glance over the teacher's table, only Snape seemed to have recovered, sending Harry a small nod. The hall buzzed with energy, most of the students no longer paying attention to the final first years being sorted. No one even clapped when Ron was sorted into Gryffindor. Apparently he wasn't wrong about the family guarantee.

Draco had started talking as soon as he sat down, stealing Harry's attention from the chatter around them. If he didn't know any better, he would have said Draco was trying to comfort him. The thought that the, usually aloof, blond was trying to make him feel, better cheered him up considerably. Draco continued to talk, even as food appeared before them on the table. He allowed Harry a moment of complete awe before shoving plates at him and telling him to eat. Harry piled up his plate with more food than he had been fed in the course of three days, and began to eat.

He felt warm and comfortable. A friend chatting in his ear between bites, mouth watering food, and a sense of belonging Harry had never felt before in all his life.

* * *

Draco couldn't hold back a smile at his new friend's eagerness for the first classes. They had each been given a schedule by Professor Snape before they got ready to turn in and as soon as they entered the dorm room, Harry had jumped onto his bed and rolled around for a half hour while everyone else started to take things out of their trunks. He ignored Draco's insistence to unpack, and clung to his pillow with a foolish grin on his face. Draco couldn't understand his excitement for the bed. Personally, he found it uncomfortable compared to his bed at home.

But Harry loved it. By the time everyone else had gotten ready for bed, he was still laying there, fully clothed, looking at his schedule. His cheeks were flushed with excitement.

"Come on, Harry," Draco commanded, "get ready for bed already."

"I doubt I'll be able to sleep, I'm too wound up."

"Just get your pajamas on, at least. You're making me antsy with all this rolling about."

Harry stuck his tongue out at him, launching himself out of the bed and flipped open his trunk. Draco's smile fell away as soon as Harry pulled off his baggy, stripped shirt. Ugly fashion aside, he had noticed right away that there was something off about Potter. Now, Draco knew why.

Harry's ribs poked through his flesh so harshly, Draco imagined that it must physically hurt the boy. How could Harry even move about like that? Even his spine was visible, a long line of nobby bumps trailing down his back. He spotted a small bruise blossoming on his side, just under Potter's ribs. But what really caught Draco's attention was the scar that crawled its way down from Harry's shoulder to just above his trousers. It was a bad one, clearly not taken care of properly. It wasn't a cursed scar, so there was no reason it couldn't have been healed fully by a medic.

"Was that from an accident?" Draco blurted out. He regretted it immediately when Harry turned around with a pale, shocked face.

"It's not what you think!" Harry babbled, turning away in a fluster to pull an even baggier pajama top over his head.

"It's not what I think? I _think_ It looks like someone hurt you."

"Well, yeah. I did get hurt. But it was an _accident_," Harry snapped in return. "I fell."

Draco scoffed and came closer to the boy, ignoring the way Harry's shoulders tensed up. "Don't even try lying to me. I'm the best liar here, and you wouldn't even fool a Longbottom."

"I fell..." Harry whispered, keeping his body turned away.

Draco froze, one hand already reaching for the trembling shoulder in front of him. He had never encountered anything like this before. No one got hurt around him, and no one had that haunted look that he had seen in Harry's eyes. He had never comforted anyone in his entire life, usually he was the one being comforted. What was Draco supposed to do here? Would touching him scare him more, or help? Should he press for a better answer, or simply leave it.

Draco scowled. A Malfoy never gave up, especially when there were unanswered questions. "Harry Potter, you look me in the eye and tell me who did this."

To his surprise, Harry let out a huff of laughter and turned to give him a weird look. "Bossy prig."

Draco's jaw dropped open. "E-excuse me?!"

Apparently, his expression was amusing, because Harry burst out laughing to the point of tears.

"You should... you should see your face," he managed between giggles.

Draco sent him a half-hearted glare, unable to feel too angry at him after finally seeing Harry laugh.

"This is what I get for _caring_," Draco muttered and turned away back to his bed. Several of the boys who had already fallen asleep muttered curses at the two of them from behind their curtains. With one last glare at Potter, he slide into his bed.

"Oh, don't sulk, Draco," Harry called out just as he was pulling the bed curtains closed.

"Shut it, Potter!"

"_Both_ of you shut up!" Yelled someone from across the room. A chorus of groans agreed with them, and both Draco and Harry closed their mouths with guilty looks.

After adjusting his less-than-perfect pillow, Draco realized he hadn't closed his curtains all the way. He noticed that Harry's curtain were still open and the boy was simply sitting on the edge, staring at nothing. He looked sad, and for a moment Draco considered sneaking back over to talk to him some more. The moment passed and Harry slipped into his covers and quickly jerked the curtains closed around him.

Draco wondered, not for the first time, just who Harry Potter was.


	3. Misfit

Harry pressed his face deeper into his pillow and choked back a sob. Today had been the worst day in his entire life, and considering some of the days spent with the Dursleys, that was saying something.

Hogwarts was supposed to be where he belonged. The special place he always dreamed of running away to, where he would have friends and people who loved him. It wasn't that the school had failed him. It was Harry who had failed his school. He wasn't special, he didn't belong. Dudley was right, Harry was just a _freak_.

That morning had started with butterflies in his stomach. It was the first day of classes and Harry was eager to finally use some magic. He barely had anything to eat, not even with Draco's thorough scolding. A girl named Pansy had introduced herself in a rush, very interested in Draco's new friend. She got even more excited when she learned that he was the infamous _Harry Potter_. But after a while she looked rather put out by his shy answers and lack of knowledge about magic.

Harry should have known, even then, that something was wrong with him. He was failing to meet other's expectations, as usual. His only comfort was the fact that Draco had stuck by his side, even though he remained oddly quite all morning.

Was it something he said? Maybe he shouldn't have called him names so soon. Dudley always joked with his friends, calling them jerks or ugly. But they always laughed and called him things right back. Maybe only normal people were allowed to do that. Harry was going to have to apologize as soon as possible.

He was really starting to panic by the time everyone stood and headed to their classes. A quick glance at his schedule showed he had potions first, something he was actually pretty confident he would do well in. He had always been a good cook, great at measuring with his eyes, and had a pretty good intuition for controlling the temperature. However, as soon as they all filed into the dungeon classroom, he found there was no where for him to sit. Draco had Pansy paired with him, and was looking oddly irritated while he picked at the edge of the table. A small glance his way told him why. The blond made a point of turning his glare between Pansy and Harry before mouthing, "save me!".

He felt considerably better knowing Draco hadn't left him out on purpose. Since there wasn't another stool, he slid over and hovered next to them, unsure of what to do.

"I, er... we were supposed to be paired, Harry."

He shrugged a little, faking nonchalance. "It's fine. I just don't know where to go."

"Stay right here," Draco replied, leaning back to peer around the classroom. He perked up suddenly. "Ah, there is a stool! It's just..."

Harry turned and saw where he was looking. It was a single spot on the corner of a much shorter table that was pushed right up against the teacher's desk. It looked suspiciously like the seat left for students who were in trouble. Harry glanced back at Draco and grimaced.

"Just stay here," Draco repeated, "he can't expect you to sit there. Pansy, go sit over there!"

The girl looked at the stool and made a disgusted noise. "You can't be serious?!"

"This _was_ Harry's seat. I was saving it for _him_."

"I'm sure he can survive _one_ class apart from you, Draco."

The blond boy hissed and started to protest when Harry gently touched his shoulder. "It's fine, really. I'll just set up over there."

Draco frowned, opening his mouth to complain again before Professor Snape entered the room.

"If you are finished socializing, Potter, I suggest you set up for class. We wouldn't want you to be behind now, would we?"

Harry blushed instantly and hurried over to the smaller desk. He began taking everything out in a hurry, trying to listen to the professor start his lecture. He was going to miss some notes.

"You may have come here expecting this to be easy," Snape began, casting a glare across the classroom, "but there is more to potions than stirring some ingredients together. It takes patience, caution, even intuition to make a good potion. It takes _talent_ to make an excellent one."

Once he stopped dumping things out of his bag, Harry stared up at him, hanging off every word. He had his parchment out and ready, but was fumbling a little with the quill. It was certainly not the same as working with a pen.

"Can anyone tell me what this is?" Snape asked, holding up a round object that looked like a rock.

The brown-haired girl from the train nearly popped out of her seat, her hand straight up in the air. Snape let his eyes slide over her before they settled on Harry, who just happened to be fussing with the ink pot at the time.

"How about you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry jerked his head up and stared at the object. "I... Is it a stone, sir?"

The class giggled and the brown-haired girl gave him a pitying look, her hand still in the air.

"It is a stone, but what type of stone, Potter?"

Harry wracked his brain for anything he might find useful. He had only managed to read through the introduction of his potions book before finally falling asleep. He hadn't seen anything about a rock. Then again, it was something needed for a potion, wasn't it? Harry squinted at it and frowned. There had been something in the index about a goat.

"Is it the stone from a goat, sir?"

Snape's eyebrows shot up for a split second of surprise before settling back into his usual bored expression. "Yes. But the correct name for it is, a Bezoar. It is taken from the stomach of a goat and can be used to cure nearly anything."

The girl who had been waiting to answer deflated at last, sinking back into her seat. She gave Harry an irritated glance and turned back to her note taking. Draco gave Harry a discrete thumbs up, which cheered him up considerably.

Snape went on to explain what they would be covering for the rest of the semester, and gave them instructions to start on a 'simple' potion. Harry was already feeling overwhelmed just by taking notes. He could hardly read what he wrote, and Snape had sneered over his shoulder at them more than once.

With a sigh, Snape sat down at his desk and addressed him directly, "Potter, since you have no partner, I shall assist you when you should need it."

Harry ducked his head and muttered his thanks, feeling even more intimidated by the man. He successfully heated up the caldron and was about to add the quills when a shout went out from across the room. The boy Harry remembered as Neville had toppled backwards when his caldron started to melt. The entire room began to fill with a nasty smell.

"You were supposed to remove it from the fire before adding the quills, Longbottom." Snape glared at the mess and cleaned it up with a wave of his wand. "10 points from Gryffendor," he added, clicking his tongue.

Harry glanced at Draco, who looked a little stunned, before quickly removing his own caldron from the heat. He added the remaining ingredients and waited eagerly for the potion to emit pink smoke as the book said it would. After a few minutes, the potion had gone pale and refused to do much else. Harry swallowed nervously and glanced around the room at the others.

The eager girl, who glared at him before, seemed content with her potion and was already packing away her supplies. Harry's heart dropped when he noticed that most people seemed to be doing alright with the potion.

"Something the matter?" Draco whispered, leaning across the way to look at his potion.

Harry bit his lip and muttered back, "it's not making pink smoke."

"Ours isn't either."

"Did you finish all the steps?" Harry asked, peering over at their caldron. Just as he looked, a puff of pink smoke rose from their potion, causing Pansy to squeal with glee. Draco rolled his eyes and gave Harry and pat on the shoulder.

"Was there something you needed from Mr. Malfoy, Potter?" Snape spoke suddenly.

"N-no sir," Harry stammered and turned back to his failed potion. No pink smoke, just a pale potion that looked a little watery. He glanced back over the instructions with a building panic.

What if he added more nettles? The timing was slightly off, but hadn't he seen something about adding them as it cooled? Wait... did he wave his wand over the potion? What happened if he waves it twice?

Harry jumped as Snape called out to the class, "everyone should be finished now. Wands down, and bottle the potions. I expect one from each of you on my desk before you go."

Harry panicked and decided to try one more wave before he bottled it. Nothing happened. No pink smoke, and the stuff still looked pretty watery. With a heavy sigh, he carefully took the eye dropper put some potion in a bottle with his name. He rushed to clean up his area, his cheeks burning with shame.

"Harry?"

He turned to see Draco standing by his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing... It's just," Harry paused and glanced at the professor who was glaring at them. "It's nothing."

"Come on, then. It's lunch and then flying, and then Defense Against Dark Arts!"

Snape make a small noise in the back of his throat. It was a signal that they should go, so Harry dumped his supplies in his bag and rushed out behind Malfoy.

"That wasn't all bad," Draco commented on their way up from the dungeons. "I thought I had made a grave mistake for a moment there." He paused and looked around for others. "Not that it's possible for me to make a mistake."

Harry scoffed and bumped against him. "Because the Great and Powerful Draco Malfoy never messes up."

"Precisely."

Harry laughed, starting to feel better already. He may have failed, but at least he wasn't the only one. Neville and that Ron kid didn't even have a potion to submit. So maybe having cooking experience wasn't going to cut it, but Harry was determined to be prepared for the next potions class.

Now all he had to worry about was learning how to fly on a broom. How hard could that be?

* * *

Draco had done his best to cheer Harry up during lunch. He even went as far as to admit he was bad at something. If sacrificing his dignity wasn't enough, then perhaps the flying lesions would lift Harry's mood.

"You are going to _love _this," Draco called out, rushing out the front doors ahead of him. It wasn't his first time on a broom, obviously, but it never lost its excitement. Especially now that he got to see a bunch of newbies fall off their brooms.

"I thought we weren't actually flying today," Harry called out from behind him. The dark-haired boy was dragging his feet for some reason. His moping was starting to get on Draco's nerves.

"We shall see about that," he replied under his breath as they approached the group. He made sure, this time, to get a place next to Harry when they lined up.

"Everyone ready? Now hold your hands over your broom and say, _UP _!'" Madam Hooch directed, standing at the front of the rows.

Draco smirked and calmly commanded his broom into his hand. To his surprise, Harry's broom snapped right into his own hand without a verbal command.

"What did you just do?"

"Hmm?" Harry blinked at him, his face split into a wide grin.

"Did you just..." Draco trailed off, seeing the boy's smile falter a bit. "Never mind. Good job. Most people fail, like Weasley there."

"Bugger off, Malfoy!"

Draco sneered at the red-head and swung a leg over his broom gracefully. Harry stared at him in awe.

"Mr. Malfoy, only hovering please. Now if everyone could follow his example, we will be staying just above the ground."

Harry mounted with far less grace than he had. But once on, he settled in on the broom as if he were a part of it. They shared a grin before a shout came from down the line.

"Mr. Longbottom!" Madam Hooch yelled, rushing forward too late to stop the boy from lifting farther and farther off the ground. "Longbottom, get down!"

"I always knew he was a bird brain," Draco joked, grinning at Harry.

"He's going to get hurt."

"It's on his own foolish head, then."

"Draco, that's not fair," Harry chided, looking disappointed. "That could be _me _."

Draco's mood started to darken. Who did he think he was, treating him like he was some sort of disappointment? It's not as though he would laugh if it were Harry, so why did he care?

There was a scream and a dull thump, causing the group to gasp. Harry jumped from his broom and rushed across the grass with the others.

Draco rolled his eyes and slipped off his broom, not bothering to join the rest. This was turning out to be a boring day, by the looks of it. That bumbling idiot hadn't even lasted long enough in the air for a few more jokes.

In front of him, the group broke apart as Madam Hooch brought the boy inside. He seemed to be alright, other than his hand. Some of the students started drifting back over, muttering excitedly about the accident.

_Boring _.

Draco scowled at them and looked around at the scattered brooms. Something glinted in the sunlight.

"What have we here?" He muttered, bending down and picking up a small, glass sphere. "Ah-ha!" He said louder, turning to address the rest of the Slytherins who had joined him. "It's this that idiot's remembrall. Wasn't he bragging about it all morning? Yet here it is, left in the grass."

"Draco," Harry mumbled, his face tense.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Draco snarled, striding over to his broom and picking it up. "I'm just taking care of it for him."

"Draco, don't!"

"If you don't want me having it, come and get it, Potter."

Harry visibly flinched at the use of his last name and Draco felt a small hint of guilt hit him. The boy's face went from annoyance to utterly crushed in seconds. He hadn't meant to hurt him, just shut up his 'goody-two-shoes' act for a bit.

Draco scowled and took off into the air, unwilling to look at Harry's face anymore. He did a few laps around the field and then climbed higher. A couple shouts came from below, and he turned to smile down at their appreciation. Only, it wasn't for him.

Harry was right behind him, shooting into the air much faster than he should have been able to.

"Malfoy!"

This time Draco flinched, causing the remembrall to slip from his grasp. There was a second where Draco leaned forward to catch it, almost falling from his broom. Then he was alone in the air, Harry desperately streaking after the falling orb.

"H-Harry! Don't!" He called out, clutching his broom to keep from falling. But Harry continued to dive, heading straight for the ground. He was only seconds away from smashing face first into the grass. Then, Harry pulled up, Draco's heart stopped, and someone screamed Potter's name all at the same time.

He saw Harry roll off of his broom and just lay there. Draco felt his panic return again, and dove down to land next to him.

"Is he alright?!" He yelled, rushing over. He was greeted by an irate looking Professor Mcgnagall.

"He's perfectly alright, other than being in _trouble _," she snapped, helping the boy up from the grass. Draco saw his face, covered in dust and pieces of grass. He looked startled and a little guilty.

"What were you _thinking _, Potter?!" Mcgnagall hissed, looking him over.

"I..." Harry looked down and held up the remembrall. "It fell."

"You... you _caught _that? From up there?"

Madam Hooch, who had returned with the professor, gave her an odd look. Harry simply nodded and continued to look down.

"Well then," Mcgnagall said, shaking her head, "come to my office tomorrow. I wish to speak to you about this."

Harry simply nodded and continued to stand there when the two professors moved away to talk in hushed voices. Draco scowled at them and walked up to his friend. All the joy he had felt from flying was already gone, replaced by a heavy guilt. He had ruined Harry's day. He could just tell by the look on the boy's face that he was about ten seconds away from bursting into tears.

"Harry, I..." He began quietly, "I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

Harry shook his head and continued to look downward. "I know."

"I'm a git and I don't deserve to be your friend."

"No!" Harry yelped, jerking his head up in a panic, "we _are _friends. We are, right?"

Draco smiled and patted his shoulder before realizing it was covered in dirt. His scowled returned as he dusted his hands clean. "You might want to get changed before Defense."

"I don't even want to go," Harry mumbled, turning back to head to the front doors. "I'll just fail again."

"You didn't fail, Harry. You just did the most amazing bit of flying I've ever seen. Especially for your first time." Draco started to grin at him before he spotted Crabbe and Goyle following them. He quickly schooled his expression back to his usual boredom and pushed Harry along. "Anyway, forget about potions. Defense Against Dark Arts is brilliant, I've heard. You get to learn some pretty impressive spells. My father says they've gone soft these days, not teaching students the 'Unforgivables'. _Personally _, I think he's in a mood because of all the bad news of late."

Harry blinked at him in confusion and jogged along side. "What do you mean? Did something happen to your dad?"

"He's writing a letter to the Ministry about the safety of our accounts at the bank. Here," Draco gestured to Crabbe, "show him."

Crabbe grunted and handed over a wrinkled piece of newspaper. Harry took it from him and scanned the page quickly. "Someone stole from Gringotts? I thought that was supposed to be impossible?" Harry stopped mid-step, causing Goyle to run into him.

"Oy!"

"713... 713? That _can't _be right."

"What are you going on about now?" Draco asked, pulling him along through the doors and into the entrance hall. Harry pulled back, stopping again. Draco opened his mouth to complain but froze when he saw his face. Harry looked terrified.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong now?"

"I think..." Harry held up the newspaper slowly. "I think I might know who did this." 

* * *

Another shuddering sigh escaped Harry as the dormitory started to fill with the other students. He couldn't let them hear him crying, they would never let him live that down. So he buried his head under the pillow and tried to calm down. He knew, any second now, Draco would be there to find him. Harry was beginning to notice that the blond was rather good at apologizing without actually saying he was sorry.

As soon as he thought about him, his eyes started to prick with tears again. Today had been _such _a bad day. He really didn't expect it to get much worse than Potions and detention with Professor Mcgnagall.

They had argued the entire way down to the dungeons before Draco stomped off to class without him. Goyle decided to stay with him as he changed and grabbed his books, which seemed to only annoy Draco more when he left.

It wasn't fair. Harry knew what he saw, and Draco hadn't even been there. It was a giant. A giant bearded man who looked exactly the same as the grounds keeper, Hagrid. Harry had wanted to go talk to him, but Draco told him to mind his own business. Then it was, 'you can't go around accusing whoever you like. Even if it is that dirty old half-breed', which Harry had taken offense to. Which, of course, ticked the blond off more and sent him away scowling. Goyle said nothing as he sniffled and changed, but gave him a chocolate frog before they left. They had never actually talked, but somehow he felt a lot better just having someone there.

They reached the classroom a few minutes late and tried to slip in unnoticed. Harry mouthed, 'lucky' to Goyle when they successfully made it to their seats without the professor noticing. The turban-wearing man seemed distracted by his lack of chalk and continued to fumble around even as Harry pulled out parchment and a quill.

Harry cast a quick glance at Draco, and was ignored. Feeling rather miserable, he turned back to face the front and found the professor staring right at him.

"O-oh... you m-m-must be Mr. P-Potter?" He inquired.

"Yes... um, sir."

The professor nodded a few times and scuttled behind the desk before addressing the class,"M-my name is P-Pr-Profes-sor Quirell. I w-will be t-teaching you all how t-to defend yourselves against dark m-ma-magic."

Harry sat up, feeling excited at last to be getting to work on some real magic. He picked up his ink pot, ready to take notes, when the professor turned to face the blackboard again.

A sharp, searing pain flashed through Harry's scull, wrenching a startled cry from him. His hands flew to his scar, trying to ease the pain any way possible. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone, leaving Harry with a lap full of ink and a room full of startled faces.

"I... sorry," he murmured, one hand kneading his aching forehead. The sharp pain was gone, but his entire head felt like someone had just walked all over it.

"Are you alright, mate?" Came a voice from his left. Harry turned and was surprised to see Ron looking at him with concern.

"I'm f-fine," he replied hesitantly. Turning to face the professor, he added once again, "I'm sorry, sir."

"Are you sure you are w-well?" Quirell asked, hovering near the first row. For some reason, Harry didn't want him to come closer. So he nodded and smiled sheepishly.

"A-alright... then let us begin with..."

Harry tuned him out and tried to daub up the ink from his robes with a piece of parchment. After a few failed attempts he heard a muttered, ' _Scourgify _' and the ink was gone. He cast a quick look around and saw Draco staring at him with his wand out. The blond glared at him for a moment before turning back to listen to the professor.

"N-Now, I would like you in p-pairs to try this spell. We will be using it at a later time we we practice p-p-proper w-wizard duels. Until then, we will be using the most simp-plified version." Quirell paused and held up his wand. "You sh-should aim for their wand, not their bodies. The spell should knock it from your opponents hand. Now pair up. Q-quickly, please."

Harry shuffled out of his seat, intending to head over to Draco and the others. Before he got far, a hand grabbed his arm and turned him around.

"Please, _please _pair with me," Ron begged, glancing around nervously, "that last incident with Neville has me scared for me life!"

Harry snorted and glanced back at his friends. They had already paired off and didn't seem to notice him. He didn't want to admit it, but that hurt. These were his first friends, and they hated him already. He _knew _he was a freak, why else did everyone abandon him so easily?

"What do you say?" Ron asked again.

"Er, sure. Okay."

"Brilliant! Come on then!"

Harry allowed himself to be pulled along for the second time today. He was starting to feel a little stretched. It was probably normal for someone's first day, or maybe it was just because he did so poorly today.

"Ready?" Ron asked, taking a few steps away and holding his wand up.

"Wait, what's the actual spell?" Harry replied, realizing he hadn't been listening at all.

"It's basically like hitting someone without actually hitting them. Just say, 'Flipendo' and wave your wand, I guess."

Harry looked down at his wand, and back up at the red-head. "Should I go first, then?"

"Sure."

" _Flipendo _!" Harry shouted, jabbing his wand forward like a sword. Ron flinched, and nothing happened. Harry wiggled his wand a few times at him and waited a minute more before giving up.

"Alright, my turn," Ron said, looking a bit nervous. " _FLIPENDO _!"

Harry skidded back a little, but otherwise remained unfazed.

"Huh, so it worked a little bit," he commented, looking up at a startled Ron. "Should I try again?"

"Mr. P-Potter," Quirell said, weaving in and out of students to approach. "You need to flick your wrist m-more, I b-be-believe. D-down and up!"

"Yes, sir." Harry swallowed nervously, uncomfortable with how close he was standing. He gritted his teeth and called out the spell again, this time flicking his wrist. Ron sneezed.

"Was that you, mate?"

Harry glared at him and shook his head. "It's not working."

"Let me try again," Ron replied, "maybe it's the hand movement."

Harry steeled himself for another blow and was caught off guard when the jinx hit him hard enough to knock him over. There was applause and Ron was beaming at his success. No one came to help him up, so Harry stood up on his own and went back to his desk.

"Oh, come on mate!" Ron called out, "come back and try again!"

Harry slid everything off his desk into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Professor? I'm not feeling well, may I be excused?"

Quirell glanced at something on his desk and nodded. "You m-may. As for the r-rest of you, please practice a few more times b-before the end of class!"

Harry ducked his head and rushed out of the classroom. He nearly ran the entire way back to the dormitory, ignoring anyone who crossed his path. His eyes were already brimming with tears by the time he made it to the common room and he could only hope the older students didn't notice.

Now, the first years were finally back from dinner and were already heading to bed. Harry hadn't bothered to go, unwilling to face anyone after his repeated failures.  
Over the course of the past few hours, Harry had decided that professor Snape and Mcgnagall were wrong. He wasn't a wizard, they had made a drastic mistake. Maybe the wand he was given was one of those party favors that spit sparks out when you pull them. It _had _to be a mistake. So, he began making plans on leaving, who to tell and where to go.

Of course he had to return to the Dursleys, he had no other family.  
Harry could already hear their laughter.

_I told you, boy. Nothing but a freak. A no-good, waste of bleeding space. You thought you were special, didn't you? _

Dudley would laugh, and probably hit him a few times to really drive the point home. Then Vernon would start in on him, punching him until he was down and then he would kick in his ribs. Aunt Petunia can join too, clawing at his face and...

"Harry?"

Harry jerked awake and instantly lashed out at the body hovering over him. There was a startled squawk and a thud of a someone hitting the floor. Someone swore from across the room but soon returned to snoring. Harry blinked the tears out of his eyes and sat up in a panic, just now realizing where he was.

"I'msosorry, I thought you were someone else,"He blurted out, jumping out of his bed. Of course, it was Draco, sitting on the floor rubbing his back with a grimace.

"Merlin," He groaned, looking up at him, "what the hell was that? Did you just jinx me?"

There was a loud, ' _SSSHHHHH _!' from another bed.

Harry knelt in front of him and gave him a once over, checking for damage. He couldn't meet his eye, so he focused on his shoulder as he spoke quietly, "I don't even have my wand..."

Draco's expression changed from doubt to a curious frown as he stared back at him. "It felt exactly like the jinx we learned today. Where's your wand?"

"On the nightstand," Harry replied, glancing up at the gray eyes that continued to study him. "I probably just hit you, i'm really sorry."

"Harry..."

"Draco, I _really _didn't mean it!" Harry urged in a tense whisper, his eyes already tearing up again. "None of it today. I promise I won't ask Hagrid a thing and I'll do better in classes and i'm sorry about ball and—"

"Will you shut it for two seconds?" Draco snapped, leaning forward to grab his shoulders. "Just _listen _to me."

Harry froze for a moment before nodding reluctantly. Draco waited, giving him a warning look before continuing, "firstly, stop apologizing. You didn't do anything wrong today, okay? You can go talk to the big oaf all you want, just don't be an idiot and get yourself in trouble because you're asking a bank robber if he robbed a bank."

Harry's eyes widened. Draco had been worried, not angry.

"Secondly," the blond went on, "you didn't fail, I think I know what the problem is now."

"The problem?"

"Harry, you just did wandless magic."

Harry blinked at him slowly and tried to think. "I... what? Is that even possible?"

"Very powerful wizards can do it," Draco answered, sounding a little strange, "and sometimes certain wizards have trouble doing normal wand-spells..."

Draco's eyes were lit up with excitement, a wide grin forming on his face. His smile was infectious, and Harry found himself smiling back nervously. "What does that make me, then?"

_A freak? _

Draco laughed, ignoring the chorus of sleepy, angry grumbles from around the room. He rolled his eyes and leaned close, whispering in his ear, "it means you're _special _, Harry."

Harry went to bed with butterflies in his stomach and a smile on his face. 


End file.
